


Of Lava and Hair, and a Six-legged Bear

by theclockiscomplete



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclockiscomplete/pseuds/theclockiscomplete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: "Person A buys person B a teddy bear for their birthday/Valentine's Day. Person B takes the gift but claims that teddy bears are a bit too childish for them. Person A later finds person B asleep with the teddy bear in their arms."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Lava and Hair, and a Six-legged Bear

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you waiting for the touch fic: I'm absolutely working on it. I just want it to be right and I'm working on scenarios. In the meantime, enjoy this blatant procrastination.

"…What's this?" Clara eyed the stuffed bear clutched in the Doctor's bony death grip. He wouldn't meet her eyes and while that would normally make her smile, the way he'd acted yesterday-- or whatever you call it when you live in a time machine-- made her less than forgiving.

 

"It's a…teddy bear," the Doctor mumbled. "For your birthday. Extra soft."

 

"It has six legs."

 

"More to pet or snuggle or…whatever you do with these." His eyebrows deepened as though he was wondering what exactly one _did_ do with soft stuffed bears.

 

"Both," Clara said, and his eyes flicked to hers in surprise. A small part of her felt sorry for his attempt at being earnest, but she wasn't done with him yet. "Both," she repeated, "when you're five." She plucked the six-legged bear from his hand and shut the door.

 

"Clara--" she heard him shift outside, and then a couple of muffled thumps that were more than likely his bony forehead against the wall. Good. Maybe he'd knock the stupid out of himself.

 

Clara tossed the bear onto the bed-- it really was soft, she noticed-- and flopped beside it with a sigh, replaying their previous adventure. He'd been all "Let's go see lava piranhas" and she'd told him no, that was a terrible idea, did he know what piranhas even were? And somehow they'd ended up on a planet where lava was water and he'd had the nerve to act surprised when one of the fish-- "they're even mildly sentient, Clara, look! They know we're here"-- had decided that the hair that fell over her shoulder when she leaned over the river would make a good snack.

 

Now her hair was cut to her ears and damned if she was going to compliment him, gig as a Parisian salon owner or no, and the arm she'd used to reflexively bat the little beastie away was wrapped in a synthetic cooling bandage for a three-day minimum. There was no point arguing with a time traveler about when exactly when her birthday was, but she wasn't letting him off that easily. He'd asked her if she wanted to go, she said no, he went, and she followed to keep his scrawny arse out of trouble. He'd burned his hand when he grasped the fish and threw it back in the river, but she couldn't even gloat properly since it was already healing by the time they got to the medbay.

 

"If you say superior timelord physiology," she'd warned, but it was the only thing she said as he fussed over her arm and her hair, blathering about skin-mimicking cooling gels and planets where hair was not allowed over twenty centimeters and now they could go there, wouldn't that be fun?

 

If she was being honest, she wasn't sure why this particular instance was making her so upset. It wasn't as if the haircut looked especially bad, and her arm was so comfortable that she reckoned the other one might be jealous. No, it probably had to do with the way he'd leaped forward to pull her back from the bank of the lava just before the fish attacked, and then acted like she was just supposed to know that lava piranhas craved keratin. The burn she could deal with, but his self-righteousness made her want to punch him sometimes. She had to give him credit though, at least he'd seemed to realize this time that he'd been a jerk. The not-talking-to-him bit had probably helped.

 

She thought about going to sleep, but she wasn't particularly tired, just restless. She stood up and pulled a dressing-gown over her pyjamas and, after a moment's hesitation, grabbed the bear by one of its paws and tugged it along with her. She cracked the door open, looked both ways, and tiptoed down the hall, pulling it shut behind her.

 

When the Doctor came into the theater room a couple hours later, it was to find Clara stretched out on the huge sofa, asleep. Her face rested on the head of the six-legged bear, one arm tangled in its paws. On the holo stage, Lucille Ball was wildly gesticulating her innocence to her even-tempered husband as the laugh track punctuated each exaggerated contortion of her face.

 

The Doctor pulled a blanket from the plush storage box that served as an ottoman and draped it across Clara's sleeping form. He stroked her warm cheek and smiled just slightly as his hearts seemed to relax for the first time since he'd said those stupid words on Ulo. Of course she didn't know about lava piranhas and keratin, and he'd known that-- the words were the first thing that had come to mind when his brain short-circuited at the sight of Clara's hair on fire. Still, that was no excuse. He'd go back to the console room and wait for her to come back to him so he could apologize a final time, if she needed it. Hearts lighter, he turned the volume down on the holo stage, tucked his hands in his pockets, and quietly left the room.


End file.
